


To have a soul

by Selestiles



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, F/M, Insecure Thoughts, Reader-Insert, Soulless Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2020-01-06 13:16:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18389180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selestiles/pseuds/Selestiles
Summary: Sam only ever had eyes for you, until he lost his soul.





	To have a soul

You knew being a hunter made you hard to love, you were always traveling, always gone. Never staying enough for someone to catch feelings. You took advantage of people and they took advantage of you. That was the way things were.

Then you met Sam.

It was like something out of a fairy tale, a gory one. You hunted, you read, you sassed at each other. You kissed under the stars on his brother’s car. There was a certain magic to Sam Winchester, he was never meant to be a monster, yet the universe kept insisting that he became one.

He was so  _good_. He loved you with all his heart, scars and all. You couldn’t quite believe it, but you were a selfish woman, you took what you could, grasped at it desperately with your clawed hands, knowing sooner or later you’d tear it to shreds.

When Sam fell into the abyss you could just stand by and watch as he was swallowed by the earth, sad eyes turning to you in the last moment before he closed them and fell back.

You screamed your throat raw, just screamed for hours in anger and pain. You knew he didn’t deserve it, he never did.

You dug at the ground with your bare hands, tearing at the grass and getting dirt under your nails. Sam was dead. _Oh god he was dead._

Dean left without you, and you stayed on the spot, screaming at God in anger. Then begging him to let you take Sam’s place. “Please” you whispered, again and again “please, he’s all I have” Nothing happened, of course it didn’t. God was gone and Sam was dead and you could never be important enough to replace him.

-

You’d come to Lawrence with Dean in the Impala, there had been no time to get your own car. And Cas and Bobby had left when Dean did, you wouldn’t let them stay.

But now you were tired and it was late, and your pride wouldn’t let you call them back, your body still shook and trembled, and it took you hours to find a motel.

You lay in the dusty bed, still wearing your clothes and shoes, you legs tired and throbbing. You couldn’t cry anymore, but you felt like someone had taken an ice cream scoop to your chest and carved out your insides.

“Sam” you said out loud. Testing the name.

The sound was the same as it always was. And it fooled your brain for a split second into thinking he wasn’t really gone.

-

There was a stab of pain in your chest so sharp you thought you had been stabbed. But you were the only one there. Well, you and Sam.

He was standing in front of you, smile crooked and sheepish. And you couldn’t believe it, but by  _god_ , you wanted to. If this was a dream, a hallucination, damn, even a shapeshifter, you wouldn’t mind his face being the last thing you saw.

“Sam” you gasped, cautious hope tearing from your throat against your will. You stood frozen while he slowly took out his knife, the silver one. He never broke eye contact, moving slowly like you were a wounded animal as he made a cut on his forearm. You choked on your breath, tears stinging your eyes like acid.

He didn’t speak as he took off his backpack and took out a bottle of water, your eyes flicked from the bottle and back to his face, there was a rosary floating inside, your eyes stayed on it, watching as it moved. He sprinkled salt into the bottle and drank from it, grimacing as he did.

“See?” He spoke, and the sound of his voice made you gasp out a sob. “All me.”

You knew you should ask questions. You definitely had them. How was he here? Who, or what, had brought him back? How had he found you? Had he really gone to hell at all?

But the unbearable weight that had stayed with you all year had suddenly lifted from your chest, and it felt as if you had been physically pushed forward by an invisible force. You were in his arms, suddenly, finally. You absently heard the crack of the bottle as it fell to the floor, then the gurgling of the water spilling on the hot concrete. You didn’t care.

He was back, your Sam was back. And he was holding you in his arms.

-

He was different now.

He didn’t want to answer your questions. You wouldn’t have minded him not talking at all, he had gone to literal hell, stayed with Lucifer in the cage, and you knew that wasn’t something no one could talk about lightly.

But he seemed unaffected,  _too_  unaffected. He gave short, simple answers, looking you in the eye and telling you he would rather ‘live in the present’ and 'hunt with his family’.

That was another thing. He was hunting with the Campbells. There were his family, sure, but not like Dean was. And maybe you were too distrustful, but you didn’t like them at all. Samuel had a creepy old man vibe that didn’t sit well with you at all, his bald head was too shiny, he had no hair on his face except for a pair of truly impressive eyebrows, plus, he smelled like dish soap and bad breath. The others were fine, but the group seemed more crappy mafia than seasoned hunters.

You went to get Dean a week after Sam found you. That was another weird thing. You had assumed he’d get Dean much before he got you. You knew he had made a promise to Sam. He promised he’d live a normal, boring life with Lisa, promised to not go looking for him. But that was a promise you’d thought he’d break, not that you thought he’d come back at all.

“A YEAR?!” Dean cried. He said something else, but you weren’t listening. Sam had been back a year? You kind of understood his reasoning when it came to his brother, who had finally gotten out the hunting life. But you? Why hadn’t he come for you?

“Did you know about this Y/N?” He sounded pained, and your heart ached. You shook your head no. You had been so distracted with Sam being actually back that you’d forgotten to ask any questions. Well, Dean seemed to be doing that now.

“How long then?” You opened your mouth, closed it, opened it again.

“A- a week” your voice was hoarse, the words rasping against your throat on the way out. You turn to Sam and speak again “You didn’t even call him? Me? A year Sam, Jesus.”

This wasn’t Sam, you’d done all the tests, and he wasn’t a monster, but he wasn’t Sam. He didn’t even look regretful, he  shrugged his shoulders. His eyes cold and dead even if as he pulled his face into a pleading expression. You shuddered.

He got weirder and weirder. His hugs got colder and he no longer looked at you lovingly, his moral code was faltering. At first you thought it was you, but Dean noticed too.

Sam no longer cared, for you or for anyone. “He’s been through hell, give him time” Dean said, looking unconvinced. The thing was, he’d _had_ time, a whole year of it. The fact that he hadn’t come looking for you had been the first clue that something was wrong.

You had no idea what was wrong. He looked at other girls now, a sultry drag to his gaze as he followed them with his eyes. Maybe Dean was right. Maybe your Sam wouldn’t come back because he wasn’t gone, he was changed. He looked better now, somehow, unburdened. You didn’t like to think about why that could be. Was it you? Had this year been better for him than you could ever hope to be?

“Please” you begged, weak and vulnerable before him. You hated this, hated being weak and insecure. Hated him looking at other women like he wanted to fuck them, not like he was shy and sweet and nervous. Hated thinking you’d ruined everything, thinking this was it, the moment he realized you just couldn’t be enough. “Please talk to me about it Sam, I’m here for you.” The last part came in a hoarse, trembling whisper.

It was true. You hated that it was true. Even if he didn’t want you, even if he didn’t love you, you’d still be there for him. Weak and vulnerable and wide open. You’d thought you’d be the one to ruin him.

_Goddammit Sam Winchester, what have you done to me?_

“I’m fine Y/N, really, never been better” his smile was cold but sincere.

**Author's Note:**

> You can also find me on Tumblr @soopranatural


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